Creative Consciousness At Its Best! || Victoria McCabe <bgsound src="" loop=true>

Meeting of the Minds JournalVictoria McCabe


Arrival Gate

Eight hours of anticipation crawling through my skin

I check my reflection once more
The hands of the clock are frozen, then jump
Scrawled upon the crumpled page
your name stares up at my wild eyes

I pace the corridor of strangers departing
As I await introduction to the boy fresh from flight

The plane lands
and the
rain plays
with my perception of time

The crowd moving slowly across the tarmac
to the haven of fluorescent lights and
warm greetings, welcomes
I search for you among them

My palms slick against my coat
I step past your smile
to be ignorant of you
My hands shaking in disappointment

I do not wish for you to be
tangible --
Not flesh. Not blood.
Not a face to recognize.

The dark figure of my imaginings
is not so weak, so human.
How can you carry all the burden I bring?

You call my name,
a cold grip on my heart

There is no turning back now
My eyes have been opened
Your mouth will whisper my fate.


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